


Explain Yourself

by MaiKusakabe



Series: Sticks and Circles [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Blind Roy Mustang, F/M, Post-Promised Day, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiKusakabe/pseuds/MaiKusakabe
Summary: Once the battle is over, Olivier visits Roy in hospital.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am with my contribution for this year’s FMA Rarepair Week :) As intimidating as it may be for this ship, this story fills the prompt “first I love you” and I did my best to try to keep both Roy and Olivier as in character as possible.
> 
> I have a couple notes before you read this, though.
> 
> For brotherhood-only fans, you should know that Roy’s reaction after the battle, when he believes he’ll stay blind, is different in the manga and the anime, so you might find this confusing. In the manga, before Marcoh showed up, Roy had accepted he’d have to leave the military, and that’s the reaction I’m working with here.
> 
> Also, you could consider this story as being in the same universe as the story I’ve written for the FMA Big Bang. Both stories can be read separately without any issues (and in fact there is a three year timeskip between them and everything), but in my mind they are the same universe.
> 
> The story has been beta-read by Annie, who’s also my partner in the FMABB and :)
> 
> And I think that’s all. I hope you like it!

The room was quiet, far too quiet.

Roy had been told that Riza would be moved to the other bed once she was released from the intensive care unit, but for now he was the only occupant of this hospital room. He had sent his team off to work on different tasks —Fuery was monitoring the military’s communications following today’s battle, Falman had gone to find some materials for Roy to work with while he was in the hospital, Breda had just left for the train station to pick Havoc up when his train finally arrived— and Roy was now regretting the decision. At least Falman’s task could have waited, it wasn’t as if Roy could use anything of what he found until he had his sight back, but Roy had been feeling so useless stuck in this hospital bed… He felt even more useless now. And isolated.

He could hear people outside, nurses hurrying down the hallways, people looking for an injured loved one, some patients complaining… and all Roy could do was listen. Listen and try to ignore the utter darkness that enveloped him, reminding himself all the time that it wasn’t truly dark, that he would get his sight back once Havoc was here and Marcoh had fixed his legs —because Roy _would_ recover his sight, he refused to consider the alternative.

For now, however, he couldn’t even fidget. He’d forgotten it sometimes, so desperate for something to do that he’d moved to touch the sheet, perhaps bundle it between his fingers, only for a sharp spike of pain to remind him that his eyes weren’t the only part of his body Marcoh had to fix. Now that the adrenaline of the battle was gone, moving his hands was excruciating.

A loud bang startled him, and Roy raised his right hand and snapped his fingers, forgetting that he didn’t have his gloves. He hissed and winced when the movement set his palm virtually aflame, and he brought his hand close to his chest. Roy barely stopped himself from making a more telling noise.

A snort answered him.

“You would’ve heard shots if I was an enemy,” Olivier Armstrong said, her familiar voice the last one Roy had expected to grace this hospital room.

“Would I?” Roy asked, making an effort to mask his surprise. He lowered his hand to rest on his legs over the sheet and slightly straightened his back, hoping to adopt a more dignified position.

“You have a small battalion out there guarding the door,” Olivier said, her voice dry.

Roy had to hold back his surprise again.

_Really?_

He didn’t ask. He didn’t question why no one had entered the room if there were people outside, or why he hadn’t been told about them —he should have known, he reasoned; his team wouldn’t have left him unprotected in his current state, they must have assumed he’d known it. It was proof of how out of things Roy was that he hadn’t even thought about it.

“Of course,” Roy said, doing his best to make his voice reflect a certainty he didn’t feel. Olivier wouldn’t be impressed by his lack of thinking, and his brain hadn’t been working so well since… well, since he had stopped seeing. “May I help you with anything, Major General Armstrong?”

This time the noise was softer, and Roy had half-expected it. Olivier had closed the door.

“You could tell me what the fuck you were thinking,” she snapped.

Roy blinked, a useless gesture in his current state.

“Pardon?” Many things had happened today, and he had no idea what she could be talking about. Considering the circumstances, Roy thought he had handled things pretty well. Unless she was referring to Envy, of course, but Roy doubted she had heard about that. Nobody who knew could have told her: last he’d heard, Riza had been sedated; Edward must be glued to Alphonse’s side; and Scar… well, Roy had heard of Scar’s fight with Bradley.

A few thuds followed his words, and Roy realised belatedly that it must be Olivier stalking up to him. She did sound closer when she spoke next.

“Alex told me,” she started slowly, her voice too controlled for Roy’s liking, “that when you thought you’d stay blind you were willing to _resign_.”

_Oh, that._

“Well, I’m not sure if you have noticed, Major General, but this isn’t exactly an ideal condition for a soldier.”

Something slammed against his left shoulder, and Roy’s hands were up and ready to clap before he realised it was Olivier’s hand, now pressing him against the headboard. Roy lowered his hands, disconcerted.

“Fuck that bullshit,” she hissed. Roy could feel her breath on his face. “We both know you don’t give up easily. What the hell were you _thinking_?”

Roy was left grasping for words for a moment. Of all the things... Many responses crossed his mind. He opened his mouth, almost commenting that he would have expected Olivier to be happy to get rid of the competition, but he didn’t say it. He was in no mood to joke, and she’d probably run him through anyway.

“With all due respect, Major General,” Roy started, surprising himself with the cold tone his voice had adopted —for all their bickering, that was a tone Roy had never used with Olivier before, “whatever I think or decide is none of your business.”

Olivier’s hand pressed harder against his shoulder.

“It’s my business when you survive impossible odds just to decide to give up without even fighting. I thought you had more balls than this, _Roy_. Did you really think nobody would want you to stay in the military just because you’d gone blind?”

Belatedly, Roy realised that Olivier wasn’t angry _at him_. Oh, she was angry, her voice was the one she used seconds before drawing her sword on someone, but it wasn’t Roy that she wanted to draw her sword on.

 _Damn_ , he thought, for the first time aware of just how much information he must be missing in this conversation. He was left guessing and grasping at straws.

“That doesn’t matter now,” Roy said finally. “Your brother has obviously told you about Doctor Marcoh as well, so why are you here?”

Olivier moved back, her hand falling from his shoulder, and Roy immediately missed being so aware that he wasn’t alone in the room. Moments after, the bed dipped on his right, signalling that she had sat there.

“The situation may have changed,” Olivier said, and her fingers brushed over his. Roy startled, caught completely by surprise by such an... _odd_ gesture coming from her, “but I want your word that you won’t decide to just give up ever again, no matter what happens.”

Roy didn’t answer immediately, trying to figure out what he could from the strange mix of harsh and subdued in Olivier’s voice.

“What brought this about?” Roy finally asked, unable to hold back. Olivier wasn’t always the unmoving ice statue so many soldiers liked to joke about —Roy could testify to that, to having made that front crumble on many occasions— but this was extremely unlike her. She could be demanding, impulsive and loud, but this was the first time ever that Roy had witnessed —for lack of a better word— her being almost soft.

Olivier sighed.

“As you know, I’ve spent a few wonderful months amongst the former brass,” she started, sarcasm dripping from her words at the definition. “I was expecting it to be disgusting, and to have to contain myself more than once to avoid stabbing someone early.” Here her voice took on a pleased and somewhat cruel edge that Roy wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with. He’d heard the reports of what had happened with the brass, and how instrumental Olivier had been to disposing of some of them.

“I’ve heard you got some satisfaction there,” Roy said, and was rewarded by the soft exhale that accompanied one of Olivier’s rare half-chuckles.

Olivier’s fingers slid up to the edge of the bandage around Roy’s hand.

“Not enough, I assure you. Do you know what most of those meetings were about?” she asked, but didn’t wait for a response. “The only loose end in their plan.” She paused for a moment, and her fingers skirted over the bandage, the touch light enough not to hurt. “How to force you to perform human transmutation.”

“...I see,” Roy said, unsurprised. After what had happened today, how many options there had been to force him to open the gate, he couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. He was more surprised by the fact that Olivier had been particularly affected by that topic.

“Then I arrived at that underground room and learnt what had happened with the Bradleys,” she continued, and her hand retreated. The blanket moved beneath Roy’s own hand, pulling towards her. “And when you reappeared you were fucking _blind_. I could’ve gone back to command and killed the remaining generals right then, but someone had to take over the situation once the battle was over.”

She’d been worried. Olivier Armstrong had been worried about Roy himself, not just his role in today’s coup.

Roy raised his hand and reached out for hers. His little finger brushed her sleeve, and he followed it down until he could rest his palm, very carefully, over her closed fist.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, though he wasn’t sure why. He had expected his team to care; the Elrics, too, despite Edward’s penchant for arguing with him at every turn. But Olivier? Their relationship might involve many things outside of strict military interactions, but emotions had never been amongst them. At least not officially, something that Roy had accepted to live with.

Olivier surprised him by chuckling again.

“You know, the first time I agreed to sleep with you I expected you to back down.”

“I’m aware,” Roy said, holding back a smile. He’d been flirting with her during the first joint training Roy had attended with Briggs, much to Olivier’s annoyance, and then Olivier had suddenly accepted his not-so-subtle proposal the last night the Eastern troops had been at Briggs. Roy had taken the chance to make a good impression, and it had worked, much to the puzzlement of the rumour mills of both bases that hadn’t been able to make head or tails of their interactions for six years.

Olivier unclenched her fist and turned her hand around, leaving her palm open in a loose hold below Roy’s.

“I wasn’t expecting to care. It takes me a lot to care about people, but you wormed your way in at some point. And I hadn’t even noticed until everyone around me was planning your potential murder.”

Roy closed his eyes —again with the useless gesture— and this time allowed himself to smile.

“While I wasn’t expecting it at first either, I’m afraid I’ve been aware of how I feel for some time.”

The sheets rustled and the dip on the bed changed, but Olivier didn’t withdraw her hand as she moved.

“How long?” she asked, again close enough for Roy to feel her breath on his skin.

Roy opened his eyes, and hoped that they had found Olivier’s face even if he had no way to know.

“How long have I known I love you? Since you contacted me to start this crazy operation. Knowing you were willing to trust me so much with something this dangerous really made me think.” Because they hadn’t been able to so much as sit and plan even the most basic of their actions, but Olivier had implicitly trusted him to manage his part of the operation. Being so aware that she trusted him that much had been enough for Roy to think and sort himself out. “But then you refused my first attempt to ask you out on a date,” he added more lightly.

Olivier snorted.

“ _That_ was you asking me out?”

“Well, we had an audience, I couldn’t just drag you to the first supplies closet and do what I wanted to you.”

“Poor you,” Olivier said, light amusement in her voice for the first time. Her hand disappeared from below Roy’s and she raised it to touch his face. “You can come home with me when they release you and I’ll make it up to you.”

“A night at the famous Armstrong Estate?” Roy asked, keeping his voice light and holding back his newest bout of surprise. He had never been in Olivier’s bed there, the only time he had set foot at the Estate outside of some party her parents had organised had been to warn her that Selim Bradley was an homunculus.

Olivier hummed.

“I did offer the house to you. The least I can do is let you stay there. Though I won’t be offering you a room.”

“I’m sure I’ll live.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m continuing this story to show some of the development of Roy and Olivier’s relationship, as I mentioned I might do. I have to say, this chapter didn’t turn out anything like what I’d been expecting. I’m not very sure of the result, so I’d really appreciate any feedback you can give me.
> 
> I have some chapters for this planned, namely the time immediately after the Promised Day and its many consequences. We’ll see after that.

Roy was certain that Olivier’s bed must be sinful. Large, covered in the best sheets money could provide, the options limited only by Olivier’s exacting preferences.

Now Roy stood naked before this bed he’d only visualized so far, this bed he was visualizing even now, as he waited before it while he heard the shower running in the background.

“Undress while I shower,” had been Olivier’s order.

Now that Roy’s clothes were safely out of the way on what he believed to be an armchair, he wasn’t sure what to do next. Usually, he would settle on the bed and arrange himself into the most suggestive of positions that would fit the circumstances.

Now, Roy could at most risk to lie down and hope for the best. A best which would be a pretty miserable attempt with his hands still bandaged and off limits. And that was without counting the ugly new addition to Roy’s body since the last time Olivier had seen him naked.

The bathroom door opened behind him, and on the carpet echoed Olivier’s footsteps as she walked into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Olivier expected to find Roy spread out on her bed, as comfortable and enticingly as he did whenever they met at one of their bases.

Instead, Roy was standing in the middle of her bedroom, his shins touching the bottom of the bed. His back was tense, tenser than Olivier had ever seen. His feet were set shoulder-length apart, his hands taut with that same tension but not fisted. The bandages, no doubt.

Belatedly, Olivier wondered how disconcerting it must be for Roy to be in a new environment while still blind, and not for the first time regretted her choice of not bringing Roy to her room the few times they had been at Central together in the past.

Foolish pride.

As she scanned his naked form, Olivier realized that perhaps blindness wasn’t the only reason Roy was so tense. Olivier knew of the battle against Lust, Falman had told her as part of his report on the homunculi. Hell, the reason Roy was still blind was because he was waiting for Havoc to be healed from the wounds of that battle first.

“I should have done this years ago,” Olivier said. There was barely no non-verbal language available to her now, no meaningful looks and quirks of the lips to send Roy messages.

Only words.

It was disconcerting. New. Daunting in a way not even the battle had been.

Roy didn’t turn around.

“Done what, Major General Armstrong?” he asked, his voice calm.

It irritated Olivier, the title. They often used them while in the bedroom, for various reasons and purposes. Surnames, sometimes. First names were the rarest form of address between them. Yet, right now, Olivier didn’t want to hear her rank or her family name come out of Roy’s mouth.

She stepped closer to him, covered the distance that separated them, and raised her left hand. Her fingertips brushed over the raised skin of the burn scar that covered much of Roy’s left side, and she felt him jump under her fingers.

He was nervous, Olivier confirmed. Nervous and uncertain because of a scar that proved he’d survived what should have been impossible odds.

Countless conversations came to mind. About Roy’s looks, about the picture he made now or then on Olivier’s bed. About how Olivier wouldn’t keep him around if he wasn’t so pretty.

Foolish pride, once more.

“It’s Olivier, _Roy_ ,” she said, putting emphasis on his name. She ran her fingers down the scar, over damaged abs and burnt skin on his hip.

“My apologies, Olivier,” Roy said. He was aiming for his usual flippant tone, she knew, but he fell short.

“Turn around,” Olivier told him, and miraculously managed to keep the authority in her voice to a minimum. Today wasn’t a day to order Roy around.

Olivier’d had many thoughts on how she’d introduce Roy to her bedroom, especially over the past few months, but she pushed them to the side. This wasn’t the time for any of those ideas. Later.

Roy turned, his skin sliding against the hand that Olivier hadn’t removed, and those unseeing eyes were as unnerving now as they had been the first time Olivier saw them in the hospital room earlier today. Roy’s eyes were meant to be razor-sharp, intense and taking in everything around him.

This was wrong, even more wrong than the sling that still immobilized Olivier’s right arm.

No, definitely today wasn’t the day for any of Olivier’s ideas.

Olivier slid her hand up Roy’s chest and pushed. Obligingly, Roy fell back to sit on the bed. He tilted his head up, but his eyes missed Olivier’s face by a long shot.

“Scoot back,” Olivier said, and watched as Roy awkwardly did as told without using his hands.

Once Roy was far enough into the mattress, Olivier climbed onto the bed and crawled over to him. Under different circumstances she would have shoved Roy on his back, straddled his face, and ordered him to put that mouth of his to good use. But without his clever fingers and the eyes that told Olivier anything she needed to know, she settled for something simpler. Something that, perhaps because of said simplicity, might serve her better to let Roy know her thoughts.

Olivier straddled Roy’s thighs and took hold of his half-erect cock. She didn’t miss the quick flash of surprise on Roy’s face.

Leaning forward, she waited to be mere inches from Roy’s face before she spoke.

“Now don’t come on me too quickly,” she said, a tad teasingly, and ran her thumb over the head of Roy’s cock.

He inhaled, and Olivier leaned further forward to catch his lips with hers. This was the first time, in all of their years of sex, that they kissed, and Roy’s brief pause told Olivier that he knew what this meant just as well as she did. They were past casual sex, they were past being rivals who liked to fuck. They were past not having an actual relationship.

Olivier would fuck Roy in the middle of Central Command’s entrance hall if that was what it took to keep the vultures away from him.

She twisted her wrist, Roy moaned into her mouth.

Now satisfied with Roy’s hardness, she let go of him.

“We only have a working hand between the two of us,” she began, running her fingers down Roy’s thigh, “so I’m going to finger myself now, and you will listen.”

“It’ll be my pleasure,” Roy said, his voice hoarse.

Olivier snorted.

Smirking to herself, she moved her free hand to settle it between her legs. She was wet, wetter than she would have expected. The adrenaline, the exhilaration of both of them being alive was still affecting her body. Olivier flicked her thumb over her clit, a poor replacement of what she really wanted there.

“As soon as you’re recovered,” she said, for once not caring if her voice came out a little breathless, “I’m going to sit on your face, and I’ll ride that mouth of yours until you have cramps in your tongue.”

Roy grinned, his eyes roving sightlessly over her body.

“I’ll be happy to comply. Do you have any fingers in?”

“Not yet,” Olivier said, running the pads of her fingers teasingly over her dripping labia. She shuddered, a reaction she knew Roy could feel against his skin.

“Can you take two?” he asked. Fingers touched Olivier’s lower back briefly, before he obviously remembered the state of his hands and withdrew them.

“Easily,” Olivier said, realizing she might even be able to take him with no issue. She plunged two fingers into herself and let out a moan she would usually bite back.

Roy exhaled loudly.

“You should do that more often,” he said.

“What? Masturbate?”

“Moan,” Roy said, and bucked his hips up. Precome stained Olivier’s thigh. “Ride me?”

Olivier rolled her eyes, even if he couldn’t see the gesture.

“If you ask so nicely… Lie back.”

Roy did, and he spread his hands to his sides as though to keep them still.

Olivier pulled her fingers out, took hold of Roy’s cock and positioned herself to sink around him in a quick, hard thrust down.

Roy groaned. So did Olivier.


End file.
